


Vorfreude (Prologue)

by pressedinthepages



Series: Vorfreude [6]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, allusions to ~naughtiness~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28811703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages
Summary: Jaskier prepares a relaxing evening in preparation for an important question.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Series: Vorfreude [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832521
Kudos: 7





	Vorfreude (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> Reader Request: [Hi Erica!! Could I request an oneshot where Jaskier takes the female reader on a surprise romantic date, and he proposes to her, and of course he does the proposal with some dirty talk and some love bites.. 😈 please and thank you!!] - ok this request is adorable and I just had to fit it into my Vorfreude series :)

The dirt is cool under your bare feet and the breeze cools the few beads of sweat on your brow. You bend, digging your fingers into the soil and yanking out a few long, bright orange carrots. You straighten back up before crouching to a knee, brushing off the bigger bits of dirt before stowing the vegetables into the pocket of your apron. They join the handfuls of rosemary and thyme, as well as the first few strawberries of the season. 

You brush your knees as you stand, raising your hand to brace your eyes from the glare of the setting sun. The wind shifts and carries a tune your way, the gentle plucking of a certain lute bringing a smile to your lips. 

You turn just as Jaskier swings open your gate, letting his instrument be slung over his back. “Well met, my sweet,” he says, holding his arms open to you as he closes the distance between you.

You plant your hands on his chest and give him a gentle peck on the cheek. “No hugs yet, you’ll squish the strawberries.”

Oh, and the pout he gives you. You’d think that you had just informed him that Nilfgaard announced that after their siege of the North, they would be confiscating all lutes and handing them directly into the arms of one Valdo Marx. Jaskier juts out his lower lip and his eyes go all big and watery, and his hands flex at his sides, itching to pull you into his arms. And you are so close to deciding to just get the strawberries another day as long as it would make him not give you that look. 

But you hold firm, taking one of his hands in yours and stepping quickly into your little cottage. Jaskier sets his lute carefully by the door as you untie your apron and set it onto the table before spinning on your toes and landing in his arms. He catches you gracefully, his fingers catching in your tunic and sliding up your back. His skin is warm from a day spent under the sun and you can see the line of untanned skin already beginning to show where his chemise lay over his chest. 

“My love,” he whispers, his sky blue eyes tracing your every line, committing you to his memory with each passing day, “may I take you on a walk?”

You quirk a brow, your smile growing wider under his gaze, “I-okay? Is there anywhere specific we’re going, or-”

“Do you trust me?” Jaskier tilts his head and his eyes glint with something you used to call mischief, but have now come to know it as endearment in its purest form when coming from him. 

You nod, stepping out of his arms. “Let me grab my boots, and then we can go.” 

You ponder grabbing your shawl for a moment, deciding against it. It’s warm outside still, and you know that you’ll just end up having to carry it with you instead of wearing it. Jaskier watches as you tie up the laces on your boots, scuffing his own on the floor as he waits, still unsure of what to do with his hands. 

“Alright, love,” you say, smoothing your skirts when you rise from the floor, “lead the way.”

* * *

You gasp when you reach the clearing, so taken aback by the natural beauty around you. The sun has finally set past the horizon, bathing the Continent in a deep darkness. But Jaskier seemingly prepared for that, having placed candles all around the plush mosses dotted with tiny purple blossoms. The tops of the trees hang overhead and you can hear the gentle song of their leaves rustling in the wind, accompanied by the trickle of water from the small river flowing through the grass. Little drops of light flicker in and out of your vision in the air, lightning bugs dancing and weaving through the night.

On a bed of moss rests a soft blanket, deep red wool woven tightly in intricate patterns. Atop which rests a bottle of wine and a simple basket, beckoning to you from their silent watch of the clearing. 

“Jaskier,” you breathe, your eyes unable to rest on one thing for too long, scared of missing any one detail, “what is all of this?”

Jaskier wraps his arm around your waist, his weight steeling comfortably against your side. “You deserve a nice night under the stars, my dear.”

He leans over and gently kisses your cheek, lingering ever so slightly before taking your hand and pulling you forward. You sit first, crossing your legs underneath you and reaching for the bottle of wine. Jaskier catches your hand though, handing you the basket instead. “Don’t open it yet, I-I need to ask you something.”

You scrunch your eyebrows at the flush that travels up Jaskier’s chest and the way that his fingers twitch restlessly at his side. Before you can ponder that further though, the breeze picks up and a shiver runs down your spine, goosebumps blooming over your bare arms. At this Jaskier jumps back up and hurries to a spot behind you, and when he comes back into your vision he is holding out a folded-up piece of woven fabric.

“You brought my shawl?”

Jaskier smiles, settling back down next to you and draping the shawl over your shoulders, instantly brushing away the chill. “Of course, my love. You always need it whenever you don’t bring it.”

You smile before closing the distance between you, pressing a slow, deep kiss to his lips. His cheeks are warm under your fingers and his own fit firmly on your hip. “Thank you, Jaskier,” you breathe, moving to kiss him once more. But before you can, he whispers two words. Two world stopping, silence shattering words.

“Marry me.”

Your eyes flutter open and find his already seeking yours, wide and vulnerable. The smile pulling at your lips threatens to burst and you can already feel your eyes welling with unshed tears. “Jask, you-you want to marry me? As in, you would be my husband?”

Jaskier chuckles, brushing a stray hair to fit behind your ear. “Of course, love. I have wanted to marry you from the day I quite literally stumbled into your life. For the longest time, I debated with myself. I-I felt you deserved so much more than I could ever offer. But you, you miracle of humanity, have become my solace, my home. I wish to be yours, until the end of time.”

Your cheeks are wet with tears as you take Jaskier’s hand in your own. “It would be my never-ending honor to take you as my husband, and to be your wife in return.”

Jaskier lets out a breath and surges forward, catching your lips in a bruising kiss that burns with the passion it sends under your skin. Your fingers reach up and tangle into his hair as he tugs against your lip. “Fuck,” he groans between kisses, “my wife,” and another, “I-I have something for you. T-the basket-”

You blindly reach for it, not wanting to break away from Jaskier for any amount of time. You feel the woven wicker under your fingers and pull it into your lap and Jaskier moves quickly around to settle at your back. His mouth latches onto your throat, the line that travels down to your shoulder just beneath your shawl. His teeth just barely dig into the flesh as your eyes fight to stay open, your focus slipping from your grasp. 

“Open it,” he murmurs, letting his hands trail up and down either side of your hips. You take a deep breath and blink your eyes open, swinging open the lid of the little basket. Inside rests a small silver ring, woven ivy and delicate flowers engraved into the outside. You take it between your fingers and hold it to your eyes, admiring the small, intricate details in the metal. 

“A family heirloom,” Jaskier says, now resting his chin on your shoulder after leaving a few little marks of his own to blossom on your tender skin. “My grandmother gave it to me, to one day give to the holder of my heart.”

His fingers carefully take the ring from you and you hold out your hand, letting him slide the band onto your ring finger. “Ah,” he sighs, his breath tickling your ear, “a perfect fit.”

“I suppose it was meant to be, then?” You smile, turning your head to look into his eyes. Jaskier leans forward to kiss you again, and again once more.

“I believe that the stars foretold of this moment in the great explosion of the universe, and left the two of us to figure out how to get here,” Jaskier whispers against your lips.

You hum, turning in his grasp to climb into his lap. He laughs, a bright twinkle in the dead of night, as your lips travel down his neck to suck on his pulse point. 

“You know,” his fingers tighten where they rest on your waist, “I have my bedroll tucked behind that tree over there, if you wanted to…” 

You lean back, your eyes filled with mirth and so much love that you feel close to overflowing. “A bit presumptuous, my love.”

Jaskier shrugs, grinning like a boy who got the last little candy. “Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.”

You huff, grinding your hips down in his lap and capturing his lips in your own once more. “Hush, you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading :) you can find me on tumblr @pressedinthepages


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